


Branded Wreck

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Child Abuse, Humanstuck, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of alcoholism, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cronus climbs in for a wretched ride with a jester who just needs a toy. A story about fraternity and broken bikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Bike

You think he might be crying, now, but it's hard to tell. His face is hidden in the pillow so you can't check for tears, and if those little hiccups are sobs, he's at least doing a good job of concealing them. He's bleeding on your comforter. You'd be pissed if it wasn't your fault. You hurt him pretty bad this time.  
  
It's alright, though; he'll come back for more. He always does. Actually, he probably won't even leave in the first place. He pretty much lives here now. You keep him in the room without having to order him to stay; he knows what you want and complies readily. You think it might be what you like the most about him. Not that his nice ass isn't a huge plus, but you think in the end what keeps you here for more fun is his pathetic attitude. If he didn't have it , he'd probably leave anyways. He wouldn't take the slaps and the punches, the bruises and the scratches. But he's so desperate, for you, for anyone, for attention, he lets you do anything you'd like to him.  
  
You reach cautiously and set a hand on his shoulder. He shudders but doesn't flinch away. You let your fingers trail down his back almost soothingly and he relaxes into the touch. You're so good to him, after all. What would he be without you? Nothing. He wouldn't be anything. He's worthless without your hands, your lips, your knuckles and your teeth, the sharp suck of your mouth to leave hickeys on him and the trashing of your hips when you bury your cock in him. He's nothing, and you're doing him a favor by giving him all this - or rather, lending it to him, with the constant threat of taking everything back should he displease you.  
  
And really, what wrong are you doing? It's not like the sex is bad. Painful, yes, but he always seems to enjoy it. Never thanks you quite enough for your tastes, but you let it slide. You guess it's alright, because you rarely get anyone who you could fuck so toroughly, destroy so completely, and yet who doesn't report you to the cops or anything.  
  
So you kind of assume he's dealt with that before. Probably when he was young, really young. A child molester, maybe? You're not sure. You've met his father and he doesn't seem like the kind. But his mother isn't around, and they don't talk about her... Her, maybe? You don't actually care. You don't ask for a lifestory, just a face down in the mattress and a rump raised for you.  
  
You like to slap him around. It's always pleasurable. He stays silent through it, takes it in, like he's just so used to it. You love it. You kind of want to do it now, but you can't. You can't always be the bad guy. After you're done, you have to caress him, cuddle him, scoop him up and remind him that this is all consensual, this is all safe, he never said you couldn't. He never dodged the hits, so you're the good guy in the end.  
  
You tell him how much he is worth and how little that is. He stays with you in the faint hope that you'll make him better.  
  
It's easy to get him in your arms. Once his cheek is pressed to your chest, you feel the dampness of tears on it. You were right in your guess. You hug him close and sweet talk to him. He sniffles, hugs you back. He clings to you like a lifeline. You pet his hair. He sighs. You rub the sore muscles of his back. He falls asleep. Then, only then, do you pick up the joint you've left on the nighstand. Trembling hands bring it to your lips, light it up, and you take a drag. The smoke draws intricate spirals in the air as you exhale . He's pretty when he sleeps.  
  
\----  
  
Your name is Kurloz Makara and you're kind of pissed about this. It's not really the fact that Gamzee is fucking that sweet piece of ass Cronus has when you've had enough restraint to not lean into his temptations all these years. And it's not even the way Cronus gushes and beams about how much he loves your brother in front of you. It's mostly about how you can see the bruises up and down his arms, the spark of fear in his eyes when Gamzee walks into the room to pick him up. Gamzee hurts him. It's plain to see. He wears this heavy leather jacket and this happy smile to hide it, but you can tell. He's hurting so bad physically, and you know there's gotta be some mental wounds under there too, and it freaks you out.  
  
You know him well; you always did. You've been there all along. You were neighbors as kids; you went to the same schools, you frequent the same college. You've watched him grow and break, you've watched his every move. Back when you both were little, you used to be his best friend. Sometimes, you wonder if he even remembers. When middle school started and the bullying came along, you tried to defend him. You never succeeded much. You used to walk him home, make sure he didn't get in trouble; then one day he didn't show up and you learned he moved in with his uncle and cousin. You didn't know why. After this, he didn't come to school for a few months. You didn't know where he was. Without having to constantly watch his back, you made new friends. Mituna and Meulin were nice and could handle themselves; Mituna's mental deficiency got him some mockery, but he could get out of trouble by himself.  
  
So when Cronus came back, his usual round glasses off and a new, angry attitude towards everyone, you drifted away. Now, you regret it. Whatever happened to him at the time was a big deal and you wish you had been there. You used to share so much, talks of miracles and magic and pretty things in the world. It was over after that.  
  
Highschool rolled in and eventually you drifted back to him, what with Meulin and Mituna being put in the special needs class while your mutism wasn't "medical enough" for you to go. You had _chosen_ it, after all, so they didn't care. He had changed when you came back to him. He still laughed and talked to you, but it was empty and annoying, all flirty talk and innuendos, and you hated it. So you waited for him to grow out of this phase, while you watched him desperately try to be loved and fail again and again. It was fun.  
  
It's not that fun anymore.  
  
Not now that you realize whatever broke into him was truly important. Not now that you see he wasn't just a hormonal teenage boy searching for a hole to fuck. You always thought it was just a phase, an incident in his life line. But seeing Gamzee hold him nonchalantly with one arm around his waist as he conceals his black eye with makeup and a grin makes you want to hurl. You know you wronged him. Gamzee doesn't know about him, he doesn't know shit. He doesn't know about his father and his uncle, he doesn't know about the bullying and all the times you stopped him from being beaten up and he'd adjusted his glasses with a mutter of "don't bother yourself, it's just me". He doesn't know anything, yet he thinks he has the right to hurt him. To do it all again.  
  
It's probably all your fault. You're responsible for your brother, too. He was a pretty violent kid. He was always like that. He'd pull your hair, your limbs, try to kick your legs, snarl at you when he didn't get what he wanted; beat up his classmates, slur at the teachers and listen to violent music. What could you do? Your father was almost never there, and you didn't know how to get him a therapist. So you let him do what he wanted, take his anger out on you, let him think he was the strongest. And once he turned thirteen, you let him puff on your joints.  
  
It seemed to work. As long as he was high, he didn't do bad shit. You baked him weed muffins and invited him to smoke with your other friends, and you spoiled him like the brat he was. Of course, when he came down he would start up with it again, try to fight you or anyone he could reach, but you'd easily dodge the confrontation by handing him more drugs. You saw how his fingers shook now, how his eyes widened when you show him the little bag of herb, and you knew you were doing wrong, but it never seemed that bad. You never paused to think much about how you were leading your trouble little brother into a lifelong addiction.  
  
And now you pay the price. Or rather, Cronus does.   
  
But what can you do? Call the cops on your own brother? You don't even have a proof. Sure you have the bruises, but what if they claim BDSM on that shit? It's not abuse if Cronus says he agreed, right? And you know he will. You think he believes so, too, in some way. It's fucked up. I's fucking you up. You want to get him out, but you don't know how.  
  
In one way, you don't even want to get him out. You don't want to take away what little Gamzee has. You hope Cronus will escape by himself. You hesitate.  
  
So when you find him slumped against your shoulder, completely high off his ass and babbling inaudibly about something or another, you find yourself thinking that maybe if you leaned in just a bit closer and kissed him, it would be enough. Just show him that he doesn't need to depend on Gamzee for love, that he's not alone, and maybe that would be enough to make him leave your asshole of a brother. But Mituna and Meulin are here - not as high as Cronus, but still pretty intoxicated - you're still sober, and suddenly you understand that what he's muttering about is how much he loves your brother and how glad he is you introduced them to each other. Gods know you've rarely felt as bad about yourself as you are now.  
  
You wish you'd been careful. You wish you'd have guessed just how bad Gamzee was. You wish you hadn't spoiled him so bad. You wish you'd protected Cronus before. It seems like it's too late now.  
  
\----  
  
Your name is Eridan Ampora, and your boyfriend's brother is just insufferable.  
  
You don't like Mituna, not one bit, and it doesn't matter to you that the guy's mentally deficient. You just hate him. He's loud, obnoxious, crud and primal, and he won't stop "jokingly" slapping your ass when he passes by. Sollux says he can't help it - but he grins while he tells you that, and you know he can totally help it, he's just an ass.  
  
And he's here today, again. Along with his freakshow of a best friend, Kurloz. The guy is tall, lanky and bizarre, and as far as you can remember, he always was. He used to hang out with your brother, Cronus, when they were kids, and he already creeped you out back then. You went to the same school as the two of them and witnessed the strange discussions, the weird looks, the silent giggles that you didn't understand. Now, you see him do the same goddamn thing with Mituna, and you still can't stand it. It's even more disturbing to watch him do that with someone else when you remember just how destroyed Cronus was at this particular point in his life, and how absent Kurloz was at the time. It's disturbing, because you wonder how he dares replace him like this. You can't help it; you're a protective brother. Even if Cronus is a year older than you, you still feel like you have to handle him.  
  
You're even more uncomfortable when Sollux disappears into the kitchen to get drinks, and you're left alone with Jumpy Mc Spazzypants and his oddball buddy. They're sitting on the couch, Kurloz signing frantically and Mituna screeching back at him excitedly. You don't even understand what they're talking about. What's taking Sollux so long? You clear your throat, hoping to perhaps be able to talk to them. They indeed stop and turn to you, apparently wanting to know what you want.  
  
"So, Kur", you say with a half-smile that's not all that convincing. "I heard my brother's goin' out with yours. What's that all about?"  
  
Honestly, if there was anyone you never thought would get a boyfriend, it was definitely Cronus. Especially if said boyfriend was well-known junkie and friendly neighborhood troublemaker Gamzee Makara. Not that Gamzee is dangerous in any way, that you know of at least, but he always gets in trouble somehow. Breaks a mailbox by accident, tries to rescue a "lost" cat and accidentally steals some grandma's pet, volunteers to fix the neighbor's fence and makes it all crooked and fucked up... He's just the kind of guy who tries to do good and ends up fucking everything up. You never expected him and mister-big-ego Cronus to end up together.  
  
"Hahahahaha, yeahhhhh!", Mituna shouts, and he sits up a bit taller, raising his arms excitedly before... What is he doing? He puts one of his hands flat in the air, palm up, and hits it forcefully with his other fist. He keeps laughing and nodding as if telling a great joke that he thinks you're in to, yet aren't. You frown and lean closer. What is he trying to say?  
  
You're even more confused when Kurloz reaches quickly and forces Mituna to stop, looking worried and annoyed. You only frown more.  
  
"Uh... What are you tryin' to say, Mit?"  
  
He's still beaming and giggling, visibly not noticing how Kurloz is trying to shut him up.  
  
"I'm just sayin', just s-sayin', he's getting what he re-eally deserveth! Bam! Get some ath-sskicking and--"  
  
He stops his slurring when his friend abruptly covers his mouth with a hand. Kurloz looks back at you, eyes wide and looking both angry and scared. You try to question him, but Sollux chooses this moment to reappear with drinks, causing a loud cheer from Mituna. Kurloz relaxes back into the couch, accepting a glass, and you don't get another chance to talk to them alone that day.  
  



	2. Breaking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just hard to stop a train that's going at full speed. It's hard to get off the carnival ride when it's already going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there's any confusion, Sean is a human version of Seahorsedad.

  
"So, your brother tried a' tell me somethin' today", you say as you attempt to get Sollux to look up from his Skyrim game. He raises an eyebrow over his tinted glasses.  
  
"You know, it's kind of offensive", he says, "how you say he "tried to" just because he's mentally deficient. He's still able to get understood well--"  
  
"I'm not trying to talk about how he's retarded", you cut him, and he winces at the word, but he's given up on getting you to not use it. "I'm sayin' he was tellin' me somethin', an' Kurloz stopped him."  
  
That gets Sollux's attention. He raises his head from his computer screen and looks at you.  
  
"Kurloz? Kurloz never stops him. I _wish_ he'd stop him sometimes when he gets really embarrassing."  
  
You shrug. You're aware that it's not usual, it's why your questioning it in the first place.  
  
"So what was he saying?", Sollux asks, and you try to put it into simple words.  
  
"...Think he was tellin' me Gamzee's hittin' Cro."  
  
He looks almost shocked by the idea, then shakes his head, smiling slightly.  
  
"He probably just meant 'hitting on'. You know his speech isn't perfect..."  
  
"He didn't mean hittin' on. He said somethin' about gettin' what he deserved, which apparently was an "asskickin", an' I'm pretty sure he mimicked punchin' someone."  
  
Sollux thinks for a moment before shrugging.  
  
"God, they're probably into BDSM, that's all."  
  
"Gam? Into that?"  
  
"Well, does it make more sense to think GZ would hit his boyfriend?"  
  
He's right. It just doesn't fit. Actually, the idea it'd be a kink fits more than that. You just can't picture Gamzee like that. Well. Actually, you can - you all remember that one time he was out of dope and starting lashing at Equius with a broken bottle, only managing to cut his own face with it. Though, it's never happened again.  
  
"And anyways", he continues, "if Cronus was getting hit he wouldn't stay."  
  
The words actually shock you a bit. You think for a moment and try to remember if you ever told him. In fact... You're pretty sure you never did. That explains it.  
  
"I didn't ever tell you about Cro, did I?"  
  
He seems vaguely interested and motions for you to continue.  
  
"How he ain't my real brother."  
  
"Are you fucking with me? You look the exact same."  
  
You've got a lot of storytelling to make. The story starts seven years ago.  
  
\----  
  
Your name is Duncan Ampora, but they call you "Dualscar" most of the time. You're forty-three years old and you have an eleven-year-old kid, Eridan, who is pretty much your pride and only joy now that your wife left. You're so glad he doesn't look like her; it would be painful. But he looks just like you. You have strong genes, and so did your father.  
  
Your brother, Sean - your mother chose the name - looks the same too. The same red hair, the same freckles, the same pale skin. His son, Cronus, looks like he could be Eridan's brother. Or your own kid.  
  
And he kind of is, nowadays. Sean is often not home. "Business", he says before he leaves, and every so often you take Cronus to your home for a "surprise slumber party" with Eridan, so he doesn't stay alone for the night. He calls you his "favorite uncle" and makes you wizard hats out of paper. It's pretty cute.  
  
What's a lot less cute is when you stumble in on Cronus while he changes for the night, and you spot bruises on his arms and shoulders. "I fell down the stairs", he says. "I got in a fight at school." "I walked into a post." "I got scratched by a cat." He has an excuse for every single bruise, every cut, every sore hiss when he moves a muscle you know hasn't been treated well. Some of them you could believe; some of them are completely ridiculous. And when you drive him back home, get him to the door, and Sean opens, smelling like alcohol and pulling Cronus inside by the shoulder just a tad too roughly; when he thanks you with a slurred voice and a vagueness in the eyes; when he smiles just a bit crookedly - you know he's responsible. You know there's something wrong, very wrong going on.  
  
But it takes you too long to take action. First you try, in hushed words, to make him understand you know, to let Sean know you don't approve. You don't say it outright. You tell him Cronus is very clumsy and keeps walking into stuff. Maybe Sean should be more careful about that? He just chuckles, nods, and you think he understands but when you check next Cronus still has new bruises on his chest. Next, you try to be more explicit. You tell him you don't think Cronus is feeling too good in his home. You think maybe you'll get involved with the authorities should you have to. Sean should probably try and make things better.  
  
The next time you see Cronus, he's unconscious in a hospital bed and Sean swears he fell out of the window by himself.  
  
It's your fault. It's your fault, because you saw, and never told, and now the kid is in a coma.  
  
You're forever grateful it only lasts two days. In that time, you've had time to tell Sean that you swear on God's love, you'll call the police if he tries to take Cronus back home. If he doesn't want you to spill the secret he'd better let you take Cronus with you. And of course he accepts, because what else can he do? He knows you've got him tied. No one would believe the accident stories.  
  
So when Cronus wakes up, you take him home, install him in Eridan's room, and try to make yourself forgiven. But he's not the same. He doesn't smile genuinely, he doesn't talk about magic, he doesn't hug you or Eridan. Instead he sits in his bed and refuses to go to school. When you convince him to go back, he still won't turn back to normal. And in the end you know you've wronged him. You're only one of the first people in the string of all those who will bring him to his end.  
  
\----  
  
"So you're saying he's your cousin?"  
  
He sounds baffled.  
  
"Yeah, he is. But we've pretty much been raised together, so I call him my brother."  
  
"...That's fucked up."  
  
"No it's not, asslicker."  
  
He shakes his head, raising his hands in excuse.  
  
"I mean, it's fucked up, what happened to him. Is that why he's an asshole?"  
  
"Think so. But that's not my point. My point is, Cro used a' think he deserved to get beat up, an' he wouldn't say shit if it happened again."  
  
"That doesn't mean anything. He never told on his _father._ It's gotta be different for other people."  
  
You sigh. You don't like exposing Cronus's pathetic life, but you want him to understand.  
  
"He got bullied a lot at school. When he was thirteen it got worse. He'd get beaten up at school all the time. Never complained about it. Dad found out by accident an' went to talk to the principal who said he'd never heard about it."  
  
Sollux stays silent. He bites his lips slightly in reflection.  
  
"Should we go check on him?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Text Kurloz."  
  
" _What_?", you ask, wondering what the fuck Kurloz could do for you.  
  
"He'll handle Gam if we need him to."  
  
You think for a moment. Images of Gamzee's fit of rage, a few years back - of him screaming he'd kill you all, every one of you, until Karkat managed to calm him down and tend to the gaps in his face - flash by your eyes. Looking at Sollux's face, you can tell he's thinking about the same thing. You sigh, then reluctantly nod.  
  
"You text him."  
  
\----  
  
Your name is Kurloz Makara, and you don't know what to do. You know you need to react, to do something. To answer. To send a message back. Instead, you stare at the text that says "ED want2 to check on hii2 brother come wiith u2?" and stay frozen. It's what Mituna said. It has to be. You weren't fast enough to stop him. God, you're an idiot. What do you do now? If you refuse and they get in a fight with Gamzee... Well, that'd be bad, for sure. If you go, though, you're letting them know there's something wrong... Well, they'll know anyways if they see him, right? You know Eridan doesn't talk to his cousin much anymore now that he's moved into Gamzee's little apartment downtown. He doesn't know about the bruises. If he sees them, though... Well, he'll definitely be able to tell.   
  
So you decide to go. You send a single word, "sure", as a response, and then you try to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with your brother.  
  
They ask you to be at Gamzee's apartment at three in the afternoon, and so there you are. Eridan is agitated; Sollux mostly looks annoyed. Behind the fragile wooden door, you hear no sound. Are they outside? That would be nice. Maybe they'd give up on the idea. Eridan knocks on the door. Once. Twice. Three times. He pauses. Listens at the door. Nothing. You just want to tell them to leave, but wouldn't that be suspicious? He knocks again, louder. Harder. His face is twisted with anger and worry. He got really worked up about how little Mituna let slip out. You wonder how much he thought about it.  
  
Still no answer. And when Eridan hits the door with more force, it opens with a click. It was unlocked.  
  
The door creaks as it opens more, and Eridan steps in quietly. There's the smell of weed in the apartment, strong and obvious, as well as incense and cake and grape juice. The smell of grape juice probably comes from the little puddle of liquid on the floor of the living room. You guess it must be that, because of the empty bottle of grape Faygo next to it.  
  
The place is messy. Not the nice quiet kind of messy. It's _really_ messy. There's clothes everywhere, on the furniture, on the floor, empty cans of food, bottles of soda, half smoked joints and cigarettes overflowing from bowls and paper towels used to clean unidentified stuff. And there's no trace of Gamzee, nor Cronus.  
  
Eridan doesn't give up, though. He crinkles his nose at the place and continues down the corridor, towards the bedroom. You fear the reaction he might have to the mess of Gamzee's room.  
  
You're more surprised when you _don't_ see a mess. Sure, it's not so clean - there's some stuff on the floor here and there, and there are more clothes hanging on places where they shouldn't - but it's surprisingly better than what you're used to seeing from Gamzee. Someone must have been cleaning up after him. The blinds are half closed, letting only a few rays of light slip in. They shine on the bed, the white sheets stained in different colors that all look sort of gross, the pile of purple and indigo pillows, and the small, fragile form curled up in it.  
  
You barely recognize Cronus at all.  
  
When he talks to you, he always keeps his head high, his shoulders tall and his hair perfect. But all you see in the bed, tangled in a sheet that you now realize is stained with _blood_ , is the smallest, most pathetic thing a human being could get themselves to be. It looks like a child, but you know it's not one. It looks like a starving, crooked animal, but you know that's your friend, your childhood best friend. And before anyone else has time to react, you've stepped up to the bed and picked him up.  
  
He's bleeding. He's sore. He's bruised. He's naked, weak; he's unconscious. Sleeping, you think - you hope. There's dried blood on his nose and upper lip. His black eye is visible now without makeup to hide it. It's ugly.  
  
Then, he is stolen from your arms, grabbed by both Eridan and Sollux, wrapped hastily into a bedsheet and dragged outside. After a moment, you hear the front door slam shut, and you sit on the bed.  
  
In the now restored silence, you hide your face in your hands and wait for your brother's return.


	3. Off-Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fraternity is but another fragile bond. Some come stronger, some break down.

It doesn't take too long. He is back just before nightfall. During the few hours of waiting, as usual when visiting your brother, you do some cleaning up. You put the trash in bags and shove clothes back where they belong; you empty the bowls full of cigarettes and you move the couch back against the wall - it's slightly moved towards the middle of the room, for some reason.

You're in the middle of cleaning up the bedroom when he comes back.

"Where's my favorite mother fucker?" he calls. He's not speaking to you. He has no idea you're here yet. He's calling to Cronus. "Where's my favorite whore?", he adds and you can't help but shudder in disgust.

You don't respond to him. You just sit on the bed and wait for him.

When he enters the room, his face is not what you're used to. Ever since he got high, you've rarely seen Gamzee without a dopey smile, eyes half-lidded and a perfectly innocent look to him. But this is not what you see now. What you see is a maw twisted up in what looks like both rage and ecstasy. A large, toothy grin, a dement look to his wide eyes, his eyebrows knitted together and his neck elongated under his clenched jaw. The idea that this is what Cronus sees everytime Gamzee comes home is terrifying.

Thankfully, the face doesn't stay on too long. As soon as he sees you on the bed, he loses it and instead puts on a confused expression, and he looks like Gamzee again, like your baby brother.

"Motherfuck you doing here, bro?", he asks in a voice so quiet and calm, compared to the harsh shouting from earlier.

You rise from the bed slowly without a sound and, for all answer, you grab one of the sheets and slowly show him the bloodstains on it.

He rolls his eyes.

"So what, you finally got the guts to confront a motherfucker 'bout it? Up and /concerned/ for your lil' buddy? He ain't motherfucking dead is he? He's all sorts of right. Where'd you put him, bro?"

You shake your head a little and point at the sheets more insistently. He walks closer, his face a bit angry again.

"Use your voice, bro. You know you can around me, don't be givin' a man the silent treatment now. What's up and wrong? You miss your little friend? You didn't seem to care before. /Where/ did you put him?", he asks again, and he's obviously containing his rage, trying not to show you the monster inside him even though you know it is there.

"Ain't a mother fucker done nothing with him none", you finally answer. "Ain't a brother up and touched him more than a mirthful second here. His brother up and picked him up."

Gamzee raises an eyebrow, and you can see him search confusedly in his mind for a moment before he seems to remember who Eridan is.

"That MOTHERFUCKER?", he yells, and you step back in reflex because you always do. You always obey Gamzee.

"He wasn't even up and conscious no more, brother. I ain't got my knowledge on his present condition no more but I know you went too far."

You don't usually question him. You never do, and you just did, and it angers him even more.

"I went TOO motherfucking FAR?" he screams at you, the volume of his voice oddly changing. "Motherfucking WENT too MOTHERFUCKING FAR? Motherfucker DON'T'CHA PLAY THAT WITH ME. Y'all never CARED for the motherfucker BEFORE." The ugly grin from before comes back again, and he leans further towards you. "Or is it that a brother can't up and handle that I FUCKED THAT PRETTY ASS BEFORE Y'ALL GOT NO CHANCE TO BANG THAT SLUT?"

That's when you hit him.

\----

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and your brother is still asleep.

He's been sleeping a lot recently. He doesn't get up much anymore. He says he's in pain. You believe him, but you think there's more to it than bruises and mistreated muscles. You think he's in pain in a whole other way. You'd like to press on the questions you wish he'd answer, but you can't push him too far. He's tired, he's hurt, he needs to sleep, always needs to sleep.

Sollux says you should let him. You should let him recover, let him forget, let him sleep. You listen, reluctantly.

You sit at the kitchen table with your tea and your magazine. Sollux calls it a "hipster magazine", but you don't agree. First of all, it's not hipster, it's avant-garde. And then again, you work for them, so it's kind of rude of him to insult it. You try to examine the results of that photoshoot two weeks ago, four pages of pictures of you wearing different skirts - so modern, your manager said, pushing the gender limits, they're gonna /love/ it. You can't concentrate much. Sollux makes breakfast for the three of you, even though Cronus barely eats any of it. Sollux says maybe you should get him to a hospital, but you can't. You remember the last time Cronus was in a hospital. You couldn't possibly handle him being there again.

"We should let him see Cronus", Sollux mumbles, and you raise your head.

"No. I said no. He's no good."

"He has a good effect on Mituna. I think he's kinda therapeutic."

"He was /protecting/ Gamzee, Sol. How could I possibly let him here?"

"He beat Gamzee into a bloody pulp too. Pretty sure he really cares about CN."

"Don't call him ridiculous nicknames."

"ED. We should let them meet."

You shake your head insistantly.

"He's no good, I told you."

"What if Cronus wants him?"

"Cro doesn't even /know/."

"I told him."

You stare at him with wide eyes. He told him? He told Cronus that Kurloz, his beloved "friend", was trying to protect Gamzee, and yet for the past two days Cronus has been begging to see him?

"When did you tell him?"

"Yesterday."

This morning again, Cronus was asking you when he'd get to see Kurloz. You pity him. You don't think everyone notices how lonely he is. He is always surrounded with people, people he calls his friends, but in the end he is so, so alone. His "friends" barely even tolerate him. They never come to visit unless he's throwing a party or sharing his weed. None of them have even called to know where he was this past week.

Except Kurloz. Kurloz texted everyday. Kurloz asked to see him. Kurloz tried to get past you, to ask Sollux. Kurloz was persistent through the whole week, trying to get to Cronus. He even texted Cronus's phone, which is why you've now confiscated it to prevent further contact. You don't trust Kurloz.

But everyone else does, and Cronus wants him. And Sollux is right about him being able to calm Mituna, make him a bit more sane again. Perhaps... He could help Cronus get out of bed... Put some life back into him. You have to give it a try. Of course, you'll still be ready to kick him out any moment.

\----

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you have never been this bitter in your life.

Your brother hit you. You can't believe he did that. Didn't just hit you once, too; he beat you up, beat you into the ground properly, and you can barely see out of your left eye because of the black eye he gave you.

Throughout the years, with every one of your rage fits, you were always the one hitting him, and he never fought back. He took your punches with little more than a wince and your kicks with a sad face. So you always assumed he was too weak to fight. But now you realize, he'd stronger than you. He's way stronger than you and it's infuriating.

He didn't just beat you up, though; he also stole your boy. Cronus. He's yours, he even said so, but Kurloz helped Eridan take him back and now he's gone. You miss him already. Didn't think you would. But you do. You miss the comfort of knowing that he belongs to you and won't do anything against you. The comfort of him obeying your every order. The comfort of fucking him, and the comfort of falling asleep against his warmth once you're done. How dare Kurloz steal that from you? He just wants to fuck him too, you're sure of it. He could have just /asked/. You wouldn't have minded sharing. Well, not too much.

Alright, you most likely would have minded. You don't like to share your stuff, especially not with Kurloz - but you would have it it was all it would have taken to make him stay in his place. Plus, you must admit that it would be fun to see Cronus get fucked by someone else. See if that could even satisfy him at all now, now that you've ruined him completely. You know you did, and you take a certain pride to it, though of course you never told him he was broken. You told him you were fixing him up, instead, that his life was better with you, with your control making sure everything was okay.

Why did he take him? You're enraged and hurt. You want him back already. You want him in your bed, you want his body, you want to wrap up around him and never let go. You want to hurt him, hurt him so bad, and then you want to pick up all the little pieces and set them back together in a fragile, crooked resemblance of him. But you can't.

What will Kurloz do with him? Will he try to fix him? Can he? You wonder, jealousy tearing at your brain as you ponder on whether or not Kurloz could undo everything you've done, repair him, take him as his. You don't doubt he would treat him better; you don't care. You don't want him fixed. You just want him back.

Perhaps, though, there's a way to get him back. You know where his brother lives, after all.


End file.
